Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Do I Run Into Your Arms? Or Do I Run Away Screaming6 Reviews
No! This can't be happening! No! No!
Double update... uh yeah, this chapter is not very... pleasant... but it's kinda important for the story... so uh yeah... sorry.
I walked out of Mikey’s and Lizzie’s house in a far better mood than I had arrived in. Although as I chatted animatedly with my two best friends, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone watching us.
“Double music today!” said Mikey with a grin.
“Just try not to blow up any amp’s like you did with the toaster this morning,” laughed Lizzie.
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault! If the bread didn’t get stuck so often we wouldn’t go through so many toasters!” Mikey defended himself, “cooking was so much simpler when it was just over a fire.”
“Mikey, you’re the same age as me,” I laughed, “like you’d know anything about cooking over a fire.” Lizzie and Mikey exchanged slightly amused glances. They did that a lot, I never really got why.
I gulped in nervous anticipation as we reached the cast-iron gates of the prison, oh uh, I mean school. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I repeated in my head.
“It’s going to be fine Frankie,” said Mikey as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed to hear, “I’m in every one of your classes today, so you won’t ever be alone, we won’t let Jace get you.” My heartbeat quickened out of fear at the mention of my tormentor since third grade. Jace Smith and I had met on the first day of third grade where he had instantly hated me with a passion. I didn’t know why, I had never spoken to the kid other than to plead for him to stop beating me, and it couldn’t have been because I was gay at first, I didn’t even know I was gay back then.
Maybe it was my shortness, my tattoo covered arms, my piercings or my dyed scruffy mo-hawked hair, but people seemed to not like me. Whether it was the people who were more open about it, like Jace and his friends, the slutty cheer leader types, or even the ‘normal’ people (if such a thing even exists) and the nerds. The only two students who weren’t mean to me were Mikey and Lizzie, whenever they were around, I was safe. No one dared go up against Mikey, he might have been as thin as me and only a little taller, but he was far stronger than he looked, I also had a suspicion that Lizzie was stronger than she let on. But as hard as they tried, they could not protect me all of the time.
We rushed through the gates into the crowded school as the bell rung, signalling that our day of torture/education had begun. Mikey kissed Lizzie lightly on the cheek before pulling my towards our rollcall room.
We got through the first two periods without any trouble, which was understandable, considering Mikey was with me and Jace didn’t share those classes with me. But when we got to lunch and met up with Lizzie, there was something… off about her, like something was bothering her… something big.
“Wasshup?” I mumbled through a mouthful of food.
“Nothing,” she lied distantly as she stared down at her un-touched food. That was another weird thing Mikey and Lizzie both did, they never seemed to eat. The only time I had ever seen Mikey eat was when I had shoved a handful of skittles into his mouth, and when he swallowed them his expression would have led you to believe that it had been dirt! I mean seriously, who doesn’t like skittles?! Yet as usual, I said nothing, I was used to the weird things my two friends did, or in this case didn’t do, and I was extremely grateful that they were even my friends, they made this shit-hole that humans called life bearable.
The rest of the day passed un-eventfully, Lizzie was still strangely distant, occasionally muttering things like “why did he come back?” or “How could he do that?” Eventually I gave up on figuring out what it meant. Lizzie sure as hell wasn’t going to tell. She had screamed at Mikey when he tried to press her about what was wrong.
Dread filled my heart as we reached my house, I could hear yelling coming from inside the dark, gloomy, run down house.
“You can stay at our again if you want Frankie,” Mikey offered with a sad smile.
“No, I need to face him sooner or later, better to avoid making him even more angry than he is already,” I said as I turned towards my house, with a final forced smile at my two friends who were still standing on the side of the road looking worried, I started towards the door.
I walked slowly and calmly to the door, but as soon as I was in and out of the sight of my friends, I ran up the stairs and into my bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind me, trying to escape the notice of my father. That’s when I noticed something on my bed. A black rose rested on my pillow, its razor sharp thorns glistening in the pale sunlight. Underneath the rose was a folded piece of paper. I picked up the rose, being careful not to prick myself on the sharp thorns and unfolded the note. I let out a small squeak of terror at what it said. But that small squeak must have been loud enough for my father to hear, for the next thing I knew he was bursting through the door, and in a whirl of drunken anger and violence, he had me pinned down on the floor.
“Where were ya last night boy?” he slurred, his rancid breath hitting my face, “well ya stupid fag? Ya gunna answer?”
“I-I was at Mikey’s!” I squeaked in terror.
“He ya boyfriend ya fag?” yelled my father, “Ya fucking him like the no good whore ya are?”
“Nuh-no,” I whimpered, “M-Mikey’s just a fuh-friend, puh-please don’t h-hurt m-me,” I pleaded.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he slurred angrily.
“Be-because I’m your son!” I cried.
“No, you’re a fag! A whore! And ya deserve ta be treated like one,” he yelled as his fist collided with my already bruised face. I whimpered as his punched me over and over again, but I knew there was no point in struggling, it would only make it worse. Once the beating ad stopped, I opened my eyes, trying my best to ignore the mind blowing pain that throbbed through my entire body, I thought he had stopped, that he had passed out and this would be over, at least for tonight. How wrong I was. My father sat over me, looking down at my bloody, battered body with a sick grin on his face as he started to take off his pants.
No! This couldn’t be happening! Please! No! No! No! For all my screaming, begging and pleading, he didn’t stop. I must have passed out during it for when I woke up, he was gone, and I was left naked in a pool of my own blood and tears.
I curled up in my bed, the rose and the note completely forgotten, I had even forgotten the bone chilling words on the note, words which were written in blood.
“Fear not my dear, for you will be mine, whether you like it or not, we will be together… forever
please R&R, tell me what you thought?